


Stay In Your Court (They Took You From Me)

by Krasimer



Series: Stay In Your Court (Bring You Home) [1]
Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boyfriends, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, I Blame Tumblr, I Tried, M/M, Miles and Chris knew each other before the asylum and they were dating, Military Backstory, Rated For Violence, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 00:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5890804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Walker and Miles Upshur knew each other from before the mess in the asylum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay In Your Court (They Took You From Me)

"When the hell are you coming home?"

A tinny laugh comes from the speakers of the laptop on the table, the clunk of a glass being set down by a frustrated looking man following the noise as he glares at the man on the screen. 

"Miss me that much already?" the one on the screen teased, an eyebrow raised. His hair, short and military-standard, was soaked with sweat from the sweltering heat of the city he's in. It's night where he is, but it's still somewhat bright out. "I've only been gone a month, Miles."

Miles frowned at the screen, idly brushing at the front of his shirt, picking a strand of dog fur off of it. "Yeah, and it feels like hell to wake up alone and not have my heater in bed with me. Your point?"

"There's a bit of a weird mix-up with some of the other guys, something about them getting routed to some therapy place when coming home from tour, but I should be home in about four months." the other man ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at sweat coming off of himself. "They're saying they'll want me to check in with the place too, but that it won't take too long to be done with."

In the background, Miles watches as another camo-wearing man walks past, his boots echoing through the mic on his boyfriend's end. "Just make sure you come home, alright Chris? I don't think Panda would deal well with just having me for the rest of her life."

"Awww, are you two getting along?" Chris laughed, his voice deep and pleasant. "Panda is behaving for you, right?"

"Yeah," Miles pulled a bag of treats up into view of the camera, smirking at the other man. "I think it may have to do with the treats you left for me to give her, but we're doing pretty good. She fell asleep in my lap the other night, I felt kind of awful for having to leave her here alone for the night."

There was a pause, Chris biting at his bottom lip as he seemed to focus on something out of Miles' view.

"What?" Miles raised an eyebrow this time. "Chris? Everything alright?"

"If you..." he cleared his throat, swiping nervously at his cheek, as if wiping away something that wasn't there. "If you want, you can just stay at my place for the next couple of months. I mean- If you didn't want to have to keep travelling between your place and mine, and I know your work is pretty close to my house..." his eyes darted up to lock with Miles' for a second. "Or you could stay for longer than that."

"...You little rat, did you really wait until you were deployed again to ask me to move in with you?"

Chris's awkward grin was enough of an answer for him, one large hand coming up to curl around to opposite elbow. "Does it incriminate me if I say that there's already half-empty drawers in my dresser, waiting for you to use them?"

"It really does, you little-" Miles laughed, then covered up his mouth, trying to pretend to be stern. "Christopher Lewis Walker, you are in so much trouble when you get home! You son of a bitch, you could have asked when you were packing or here or something, now I have to move my stuff on my own."

"Get Riley to help you, tell him he owes me and I'll consider us even if he helps get you moved in within a week." 

A snort forced itself out of Miles, fits of laughter making his chest heave. "If it were you, I would have worn your favorite jeans. You know, the ones I only wear at home now?"

Looking interested and sad at the same time, Chris's bottom lip curled in a small pout. "You'll still wear them, right? I like pulling them off you, like a Christmas gift or something." he paused, then held a finger up to the screen, delaying the reaction his boyfriend was going to give him. "Fuck off, Klein. It's my guy, you don't need to be crude about shit like that."

The one he was talking to, 'Klein' as he had called him, slowly stepped into view. He raised an eyebrow at the screen, leaning down over Chris's shoulder. "Wait, you really got a guy?"

"Yes." Chris shoved his hand off, frowning at him. "And now that you're here, apologize for your comment."

"I thought you were talking to a chick, man, I'm sorry." 

Miles leaned back in his seat, frowning as well. "Couple of things here. One, I'm very obviously a dude, so you can go fuck yourself. And two, whatever you said to make him react like that?" he made a confused gesture with his hands. "Why would it be okay for you to say that about anyone?"

Before Klein could answer, Chris growled. The noise rumbled in his chest, a clear warning to the smaller man. "Leave, Klein. Don't let me hear about you saying things like that again."

"Yes sir." Klein said quietly, backing away slowly.

Waiting until he couldn't hear him anymore, Miles cracked his neck. "What did he say?"

A muscle in Chris's jaw twitched. "He said 'You're getting a cam show from your bitch? Can I watch?'." he muttered something, rubbing at the crease of his forehead. "I think I'm going to warn the other guys about him, he's been doing weird stuff lately."

With a nod, Miles smiled again. "Hey, want to see something neat?"

"Sure."

He picked up the bag of treats. "Panda! Come here girl!"

Mere moments passed before the sounds of skittering claws over wood filled the room, making both men laugh. The border collie jumped up onto the couch, sniffing at Miles' face before managing to swipe her tongue over his cheek and noise. "Panda, do you want a treat?" Miles asked, stroking the top of her head, between her ears. "Do you want to lay down and have a treat?"

A small yip made Chris laugh even harder, drawing her attention for a second. "Oh, who's my good girl?" he cooed at her, waving his fingers at the camera. "Who's my good puppygirl, who's my good little baby? Is it Panda? It is!"

"Feels like I'm watching over your daughter while you're gone, that's what this is." Miles pulled one of the biscuits out of the bag, holding it out to Panda once she had calmed down after sniffing intensely at the screen of the laptop. "Here you go, Panda," he said softly as she took it delicately from his hand. "Sorry it's not your dad's homemade ones, but you'll get those back in a couple of months."

In the background, he heard the click of a keyboard key, the double tap of Chris opening a program, and then a few more keys clicked. 

"What'd you do, Chris?"

"Just took a screenshot of you playing the part of puppy-mom." the other man answered matter-of-factly. "And now I have a new computer background."

Miles laughed again, scratching Panda behind the ear. "Is she still counted as a puppy when she's almost two?"

"Miles." Chris started, his voice serious. "All dogs are puppies. Even when they're ten years old, they're puppies. Just like all cats are kittens. If they're furry, four legged, given names and in your care, they are always the baby."

"I love you." Miles said softly, meeting Chris's eyes.

"Love you too. Wish I could be there with you guys right now. I think I'm gonna change some things after this tour. I have plans that can't be seen through if I'm not with you." a stuttered movement of his hand drew Miles' attention for a second, but Chris sighed and brought his gaze back up. "There's some stuff I want to do, alright? And I think I'm going to change some things about my job for them."

 

XxXxX

 

Panting harshly, Miles looked around carefully, one hand cupped carefully around his ribs in an attempt to keep them in place. 

In his other hand, he held a file folder.

"Alright Murkoff, let's see what I found this time..." he muttered as he flipped it open, a small smear of dirt staining the paper when he ran a finger down it. "Morphogenic Engine activity plateaued at roughly 2000 ppm. Unsafe to progress beyond stage three hormone schedule..." he grinned as he tapped a finger against the words, a savage look of triumph in his eyes. "Got you bastards. You were testing on the asylum patients."

He continued scanning the file as he shifted his bag across his shoulder, preparing to shove the papers inside of it and move forward. 

Something caught his eye, however, and he frowned. "Patient initials C L W." he narrowed his eyes, jolting in place as he heard something crash further off in the building. "Walker. CLW, also known as Walker." he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, worrying at it for a moment. "The mental traumas he sustained while serving in Afghanistan seem to be retarding progressions of the Morphogenic Engine Process."

His heart thudded slowly in his chest, his lungs feeling deflated and ruined as he read the rest of the file. "His predominant fixation, amplified by therapy, is a manic exaggeration of military security protocol." a small gasp worked out of his throat as he scanned the words before him, tears stinging at the edges of his vision. "No..."

Footsteps rang out, loud in the uneasy silence of the asylum, making him twist to find a place to hide, deciding on a locker mere seconds before the door was broken down. The half-dressed bulk of the man who had been pursuing him came into view of the small slits in the door.

The big guy who had been chasing him.

The one who had killed all those people, collected all those heads...

Miles clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he tried desperately not to hyperventilate in the enclosed metal box he was hiding in, a couple of tears trailing down his face. He remembered now, the words that had been venomously muttered in the pursuit, recognized them as protocal for containing a threat. He'd read Chris's academy books, had been allowed a view of them when he had put together a story about the men in the Military Police.

They had met then, had gotten together less than three months later when Chris had asked him out, had spent the entire dinner nervous before walking Miles home and kissing him gently.

It made him want to be sick, to remember that tenderness and romance in this place.

Outside, Chris apparently gave up on looking for him, slow steps proof of him realizing that there was nothing to find in the room he was leaving behind. Carefully, Miles slid out of the locker, steps squeaking slightly on the floor as he tucked the folder almost reverently into his bag. 

The relief he felt was short lived, a large hand curling around his neck and holding him a few feet off the ground. "Little pig..." came the growled words, sharp nails digging into the skin beneath his collar. Squirming in his grasp, Miles tried to say something, anything to convince the much bigger man to put him back down, doing his best not to stare at the bloody wound that had once been a nose.

"Chr-" he managed to choke out, his hands barely making a circle around Walker's wrist. "Chris!"

A grunt was his only answer, but the other massive paw didn't come up to rip his body from his head. Instead, Walker tilted his head to one side, the light shining off the cataracts that rendered him practically blind. His entire body was a solid wall of muscle, his heavy stomach no less intimidating for all the softness of it.

Miles gasped, black starting to rush up behind his eyes. "Chri-" he sputtered, hands tightening around the wrist he held. "Plea-" he heaved, attempting to get any air he could. "Can't-"

Chris's grunted again, his arm lowering as he watched Miles' face turn blue, settling the smaller man slowly on the ground. His grip loosened, but his hand stayed in place, a silent threat if he didn't get the answers he wanted. "Explain." he said gruffly.

Rubbing at his throat, very aware of the fingers next to his own, Miles swallowed roughly, feeling like he was trying to choke down broken glass. "Your name is Chris Walker. Do you remember that?" 

"Yes."

"Good." Miles coughed, wincing. "Do you remember your life before?"

"Must contain the threat..." Chris stared at the air somewhere next to his ear, unable to focus very well on the man in front of him. "Walrider must not reach the village."

"Chris!" Miles hissed, his other hand still on the larger man's wrist. "You're not in Afghanistan anymore, you're in Mount Massive asylum, and they did something horrible to you." he coughed again, his knees buckling briefly as he swayed, still dizzy from lack of air. "This isn't a mission, this isn't deployment, you're back stateside-"

"Full black, can't let-"

"You need to listen to me, please-"

"Contain the threat, don't let it reach town-"

"I've been trying to pull together a story about this place-"

"Interrogation is necessary-"

"I got an email from a whistleblower-"

"Just want to help-"

"I don't want to go home alone anymore." Miles whispered, his voice cracking from a combination of misery and pain. "The apartment still smells like you, and I haven't been able to convince myself to throw away your stupid goddamned aftershave and deodorant, even though they make it worse for me because they smell like you!"

Chris stopped muttering, his entire body going still. 

"Please, Chris, if you're still aware enough to remember what that means, please just give me some sort of acknowledgement." Miles shook, his voice almost gone as he pleaded with a memory. "I want to go home with you again. Your name is Christopher Lewis Walker, you have an apartment that you had me move into when you were deployed for the last time, and you have a ridiculous dog named Panda."

"...Border collie." Chris muttered, his hand dropping away from Miles' neck. "Soft fur. Puppy."

Miles sobbed quietly, rubbing roughly at the tears trailing down his face. "Because all goddamned dogs are puppies, even if they're nearly three years old now. You spent a year missing, and no one would answer the questions I was asking." he patted at his bag, hands clumsy. "Even if I hadn't been contacted, I would have found this place eventually. I've used every contact I have to try and find you."

Chris squinted at him, as if trying to make out his features despite the damage to his eyes. "Small..."

Gesturing him closer, Miles nodded, a small cough tearing at his throat. "Do you want the thing off your face? Can't be good for you. Also, I don't recall chains ever being on our approved-play list."

Surprisingly, Chris leaned in, kneeling to allow the removal of the metal hooks from the edges of his mouth, one broad hand coming to rest on the smaller man's back. It clattered to the floor when Miles was done, followed soon after by the chains that had been around his wrists and ankles. 

"Home." Chris grumbled, sweeping Miles into his arms and storming down the hall. "Panda."

"Yeah, big guy." Miles allowed himself to settle against his shoulder, feeling the familiar heat of him through his clothes. "Home and Panda. She still misses you. I took photos of her, like you would have..." he yawned, suddenly exhausted. 

"Safe." came a reassurance of a madman, one hand patting awkwardly at Miles' hip. "Secure."

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so...I wanted something fluffy and cute, and I sort of got that? 
> 
> Tell me what you think?
> 
> Also: Phenothiazine and Chlorpromazine are both apparently used to treat mental disorders and illnesses. Both have been known to cause cataracts. Have fun with that bit of knowledge.


End file.
